


Melting Point

by moonflares (jennyhearts)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, lots of introspection on byleth's part, there's a fight so a tiny bit of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23885617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennyhearts/pseuds/moonflares
Summary: The monastery kitchens are running low on food after the reclaiming of Fhirdiad. Byleth offers to go on a hunt to replenish their supplies, but he is unexpectedly joined by a certain newly-crowned king.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 98





	Melting Point

**Author's Note:**

> Written for @MyBelovedZine on twitter! This is the first zine I've participated in and am very honoured to have been able to work with so many other talented artists and writers. Thank you so much for having me!

Byleth had just finished breakfast when he overheard Annette and Dedue speaking in hushed whispers outside the dining hall about the monastery’s supply of meat, and how it had begun to dwindle rapidly after the sudden influx of Kingdom-loyal soldiers following their reclaiming of Fhirdiad. As welcome as the extra troops were to their cause, they would need all the soldiers they could muster for their march on Enbarr, it was clear that the kitchens were ill-equipped to deal with the new mouths they had to feed. 

So Byleth had stepped in between the two, scaring Annette into jumping at least a good foot off the ground, while the only indication that Dedue was startled at all was the subtle clanking of his armor. Annette had chastised Byleth with arms flailing about for sneaking up on them, her tone turning significantly more severe when he offered to go out on a short hunting trip to bring back more food.

He could still hear her voice ringing through his head when he fastened on his gauntlets and slid the Sword of the Creator into his belt. He had ignored her pleas for him to reconsider, pleas that quickly transformed into threats that she would find someone who could stop him if she was not able to when he brushed past his former students to return to his quarters. A small smile wormed its way onto Byleth’s lips as he remembered her reddened face and puffed out cheeks, aghast at the disregard he showed himself and his current status. Dedue had stood silent next to her, though his eyes had been closed and he had shook his head ever so slightly.

There was a knock on his door. Ah, so the warlock had made good on her promise. Byleth checked to make sure that the vulnerary vials in his pack were secure before approaching his door to meet Annette’s best pick of a deterrent.

Dimitri’s hunched form filled the doorway, blocking out the light from entering the room, a halo glowing behind his hair. The golden strands looked significantly more combed and free of tangles than the last time Byleth had properly been face to face with him, drenched to the bone in sheets of rain still cold from the lingering traces of winter, his hands gripping Byleth’s so tightly that he had found blossoming bruises on his fingers and palms that same night.

“Professor,” Dimitri greeted, straightening up a little, blotting out even more of the light. Byleth’s eyes were drawn to the blue on his battered armor, a vivid star in the sea of oblivion.

“Hello, Dimitri,” already Byleth’s mind was set in motion, drawing up complex plans to free himself of his assigned minder, and discarding them immediately when the hypothetical odds were clearly in favour of the blond. “Can I help you?” 

“I was informed that you are to go hunting.”

Byleth nodded, still staring at the blue on the newly-crowned Faerghus king’s chest. Thoughts of how it matched the royal blue of Dimitri’s cloak beneath the heavy furs, and yet was less striking than the single, glacial blue of his eye distracting him momentarily from his concoctions of escape that were becoming more ridiculous by the second, distracting him enough to be blindsided and unable to anticipate Dimitri’s next words.

“May I join you?”

His eye looked like frost, Byleth’s mind helpfully supplied.

“Sure.”

It was only when they slipped through the monastery gates with their heads bowed and their distinctive armor and weapons hidden beneath billowing cloaks that Byleth thought about Annette and how Dimitri probably had not served his intended purpose when she had sent him after their professor.

He tipped his head up, pale green hair falling away from pale green eyes. The skies were clear and blue—though flecked with grey as it was, still not as blue as Dimitri’s eye. Visibility would be high, it was warm, a good day for an easy and simple hunt. 

They would be back by sunset, well before their presence would be missed, before Annette’s ire towards Byleth and exasperation at Dimitri would grow too much, before Dedue would have his head for putting his liege at risk without him there to protect him. 

But Byleth was certain that a bountiful return would appease their displeasure with him.

. . . 

Dimitri moved too quietly for someone who wore heavy armor with an equally heavy fur-topped cape slung on his back. His footsteps were without sound, mind-bogglingly so considering the many dead twigs littering the ground they were traversing and the shrubbery that Byleth had to free his sleeves from every so often when the fabric caught on a stray branch. It made the professor slightly self-conscious of the sounds that he was making, suddenly finding the squeaky creak of his knee guard as deafening as thunderclaps to his ears. 

There was a quiet rustle of leaves. Dimitri sucked in a harsh breath before a shrill cry erupted from where he had pierced his silver lance into a bush to their left. The cry cut off unnaturally, the soft chirping of nesting birds being the only sounds around them once more. Dimitri retracted his lance. Impaled on the tip was a brown rabbit, the blade embedded right through its eye.

In times past, Dimitri would have turned to Byleth, eyes bright with anticipation, hoping for praise for his kill. Byleth would have readily indulged the young prince. The execution was flawless after all, a swift and painless death for the poor animal. But Dimitri stayed mute as he removed the rabbit from his lance and handed it over to Byleth, saying nothing as he turned away to continue deeper into the forest. Jade eyes watched as the king slid the blade of his lance along the bushes that he passed, leaving streaks of crimson dripping from the leaves.

Byleth was not one to be uncomfortable with silence. He was a quiet person to begin with—though how much of it was part of his actual personality, and how much of it was influenced by the circumstances of his being, he could not be sure. 

Silence was natural to Byleth, his oldest and most dependable companion. He had no idea he would _ever_ be uncomfortable with it until he stumbled upon Dimitri again after rousing from his untimely slumber. Suddenly every moment spent with the broken prince became impossible to endure, the silence that Byleth had once cherished unbearable. He wanted it back, the easy conversations: Dimitri quizzing him on proper lance stances with a playful and challenging glint in his eyes, repeating Dedue’s descriptions of how the hills of Duscur would be blanketed with flowers to announce the coming of spring, spotting Sylvain and the shy Bernadetta together in the library poring over a heavy tome, Felix’s warranted loathing towards him, how he sometimes experienced an odd crawling in his chest when Annette spoke of him as if he was family and not the one responsible for ruining her own childhood—

His admiration towards Byleth that he had never been quiet about, over his stunning capabilities in battle, his incredible insight, his gentle kindness. Byleth remembered the slight flush that would colour Dimitri’s pale cheeks when he spoke of him. He remembered not understanding the pink on his cheeks nor the lingering looks. But as he watched Dimitri stand guard over the pile of rubble in the cathedral, muttering incomprehensible pleas and promises of forgiveness and revenge, Byleth thought that he began to understand, just a little.

Byleth fisted his free hand into his tunic, mind whirring again as he thought about how to strike up a conversation with the blond. He looked up and saw that Dimitri had put a considerable amount of distance between them, though the blue of his cloak remained as vibrant as ever, a splash of colour amidst the dull greens and browns around them.

He made to catch up to Dimitri, suddenly gripped with the irrational fear that he would lose the king again. His hands fumbled to attach the dead rabbit to the line of rope around his waist, where four other rabbits were already hanging—all of them, courtesy of Dimitri. He trudged forward, hands still busy, and stepped into a patch of dirt that was soft and slick— 

The ground gave under his weight. He thought he might have made some sort of sound when he lost his balance and began to lean heavily to his left. He fell against a wispy sapling that collapsed upon impact, his hand grasping uselessly at the paper-thin branches that snapped from the trunk when he fell past. Byleth tumbled down the hill for what felt like an eternity, and when he finally rolled to a stop at the base, he was beyond winded, all the air knocked from his chest long ago. His stomach churned wildly and he feared the quiche he had for breakfast might make a reappearance. 

Briefly, he entertained the thought of using a Divine Pulse to undo his little accident. If Sothis were still taking residence in his head, she would have chewed him out for even considering wasting a pulse on such a mundane thing, but at least Byleth would be able to save face in front of his former student. Slipping on mud was the furthest from impressive or dashing from any standpoint.

“Professor!”

Ah, there came Dimitri. Byleth rolled onto his stomach and slowly pushed himself up, deciding against the Pulse. He had only just gotten up to his feet when he was tackled by the blond and sent sprawling onto his back once more. Wheezing for breath, Byleth saw a massive clawed hand swipe past above them. The attack would have taken Byleth’s head clean off his shoulders if Dimitri had not forced him to the ground in time.

Caught in between his embarrassment and the scrambled state of his mind, Byleth had failed to notice that he had trespassed into a Demonic Beast’s lair during his little tumble. The Beast stalked towards the pair, its yellow eyes trained on Byleth unwaveringly. It let out a deafening roar, thick strands of spit flying from its massive maw adorned with uneven and jagged fangs. The oversized tongue that hung limply to the side of its jaw was tipped with a deep purple.

Dimitri yanked Byleth up to his feet by his collar as the Beast let out another roar. It charged on all fours towards them and attempted to attack Byleth again. Dimitri shoved Byleth away as he took the brunt of the blow, getting thrown back several feet and colliding into a tree. 

“Dimitri!” Byleth screamed, the haze in his muddled mind finally clearing as he registered the situation they were in. He pulled the Sword of the Creator from his waist and swung it at the Beast. The blade cracked loudly as it broke apart, the fragmented sections singing in dissonant notes as they bounced uselessly off the Beast’s hardened scales. Byleth grunted in annoyance. He retracted the blade and dashed forward, calling forth a spell this time. Faith coursed through his veins and thrummed on his fingertips, and as he thrusted his hand through the circle of runes that materialized before him when the spell took shape, a column of blistering light shot down from the heavens and crashed onto the Beast. 

The spell was enough to stagger the monster, making it howl in pain and fear at having its vision snatched away. But Byleth knew that the inflicted blindness was only temporary. He pushed himself to move faster, summoning more magic and letting it engulf his sword. The Sword of the Creator shone a magnificent crimson as he overloaded it with divine power. A desperate shout tore from his throat as Byleth set the sword loose, the blade breaking apart once more and filling the air with its disjointed wails.

The Beast’s scales shattered under Byleth’s flurry of attacks. Unrelenting, Byleth continued to pressure the monster, leaving deep lacerations wherever the empowered blade made contact and tearing tender flesh from bone. Violet blood began to pool beneath the Beast’s massive form and it began to cower away, taking a couple of steps back as it whined pitifully. Hope swelled in Byleth’s chest that his attacks would be enough to distract the Beast away from Dimitri’s still prone body at the base of the tree. Maybe he would even be able to scare it off altogether—

A clawed hand shot out without warning, grabbing Byleth and lifting him clean off the ground. Caught off guard, Byleth’s grip on his sword loosened, and the Sword of the Creator fell from his grasp. The hand around him tightened, making him cry out in pain. The mutated creature brought him close to its mouth and Byleth nearly passed out from the rotting stench of its breath. He struggled harder to free himself, cursing the fact that his arms were pinned to his sides during his capture so he could not even shoot off a spell. He did his best to not think about the spikes of pain that shot up his spine every time he moved, so he thought about Dimitri instead, about how he could not afford to die here because he had promised the broken man so many things: that he would help him end this senseless war, that he would be by his side always.

A bloodcurdling scream cut through the air, followed by the distinctive hum of a blade being swung down. Byleth fell to the ground with a thump, groaning loudly when the impact rattled his bones. He couldn’t see what was happening from his position but he could hear it. More anguished roars, more shrieks of pain, the sound of something big crashing into trees until—the silence returned once more.

A set of footsteps moved closer to Byleth. He saw the tip of Areadbhar first before he heard Dimitri’s trembling voice. “Professor,” his former student’s face floated into Byleth’s line of vision, lined so deeply with fear that only chipped away slightly once he noticed that Byleth was breathing. 

“Dimitri,” Byleth croaked, his gaze briefly drawn to Areadbhar’s glowing crest stone, speckled with drops of purple blood, before his eyes met Dimitri’s again. They stared at each other, taking in each other’s presence, thankful for the breath they continued to draw into their chests. 

“Dimitri,” Byleth tried again. “The rabbit.”

“What?”

“The rabbit. The last one that you gave me. I dropped it somewhere.”

“...”

“I’m sorry.”

A minute passed before Dimitri began to laugh. It started out small, a slight rumble in his chest. Then his entire torso began to shake and shiver, tremors of amusement he could not hold back, before finally, the peals of laughter bubbled up to the back of his throat and exploded past his lips. Tears beaded at the corners of his eye, melting the frost in it, beckoning Byleth forth. If his hands were not still trapped, Byleth would not be able to resist wiping them away. 

“Oh, Professor,” the smile curving the edges of Dimitri’s lips was so warm, making Byleth think that he would not mind basking in its radiance forever if he was allowed to. “It is quite alright. I will find more rabbits for you.”

“Are you okay?” Byleth asked when Dimitri started to pry the Beast’s fingers apart. There was a spray of purple coating Dimitri’s entire right side but from what Byleth could see, it did not seem like he had sustained any life-threatening injuries. Still, he could not help but let a healing spell wash over Dimitri once his hands were free, just to assuage his worries.

“Save your energy,” Dimitri admonished while shaking his head. “I was not hurt. The Beast was on its last legs when I intervened.” There was a pause before the king shook his head again. “I should have protected you. Please forgive me.”

It was Byleth’s turn to shake his head. “You saved me. That’s more than enough.”

“I could have done more. I could have spared you from this,” Dimitri muttered as he gently touched Byleth’s torso, making him hiss when his fingers brushed against the broken ribs. “Are you able to heal yourself?”

“Not at the moment.”

“But you just healed me?”

Byleth shrugged in response, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Dimitri made a noise, something halfway between a groan and a sigh that was very much exasperated. It was such an amusing sound. Byleth would have laughed, but held himself back, knowing that it would frustrate the king more. 

“Wait here,” Dimitri muttered, leaving Byleth’s side for a moment. When he returned, Byleth saw that he had retrieved The Sword of the Creator and had attached it to his belt while Areadbhar was strapped to his back. 

Dimitri slipped his arms under Byleth’s shoulders and knees and lifted him effortlessly. The way he cradled Byleth close to his chest warmed the professor’s cheeks. He suddenly became intensely aware of the armored fingers pressing into his thigh, making the heat spread further across his face and down his throat.

“I can walk by myself,” the heat was not unpleasant, but it was foreign, intimidating. Byleth did not know how to process the way his palms were sweating beneath his gloves or how his stomach was twisting itself into impossible knots. He tried to push away but Dimitri tightened his hold on him, making him go rigid.

“Don’t struggle,” Dimitri’s voice sounded rougher than usual. He glanced down at Byleth for a moment before quickly looking away. “I do not wish to drop you.”

Oh.

Byleth had caught a glimpse of pink on the blond’s cheeks before it was hidden away behind his curtain of hair. Byleth wondered if it was possible that Dimitri was feeling the same heat that he was—the thought made the flush on Byleth’s own cheeks darken, though he barely understood why it did.

For now, Byleth let himself relax in Dimitri’s arms, resting his head against his chest, right above where his heart would be. He let his eyes flutter closed, his mind wandering as he wondered if he could hear Dimitri’s heartbeat if he concentrated hard enough, if it would once again tell him of the secrets it protected so fiercely, 

Byleth wondered if his own heart would beat the same way if it beat at all.

He does not think he would mind it, if it was for Dimitri.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Find me @moonflaring on twitter where we can cry about the small and tender dimileth moments together


End file.
